"Yet you expressed no such hope when you advised this flight to Roccaleone.

You were all for fighting then.

A martial ardour consumed you.

Whence this change?
Is it the imminence of danger that gives it a reality too grim for your appetite ?" There was a scorn in her words that wounded him as she meant it should.
His last night's rashness had shown her the need to leave him in no false opinion of the extent of her esteem, and, in addition, those last words of his had shown him revealed in a new light, and she liked him the less by it.
He inclined his head slightly, shame blazing red in his cheeks, that he should be thus reproved before Fortemani and that upstart Francesco.
That Francesco was an upstart was no longer a matter of surmise with him.

His soul assured him of it.
"Madonna," he said, with some show of dignity, ignoring her gibes, "I came to bear you news that a herald from Gian Maria craves a hearing.
Shall I hold parley with him for you ?" "You are too good," she answered sweetly.